


armet

by savedby



Series: Bold in Gold [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Families of Choice, Gen, Vegas Golden Knights, pretty much every Knight appears in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/pseuds/savedby
Summary: Five wholesome pranks that Flower and Reid Duke pulled on the Las Vegas Golden Knights and one the team pulled on Flower.





	armet

**Author's Note:**

> This has been my happy place for the whole summer and I'm glad I get to share it with you. All my love goes to Dell, for her encouragement, and editing skills, and her cheerleading. It wouldn't be the same fic without you.

  
  
  
  


1.

 

*

 

Reid Duke looks like a lost little deer stuck in a hockey player’s body. He’s awfully and completely innocent, which means he’s the perfect candidate for what Flower has planned. 

 

He waits until it looks like Reid is walking off alone down one of the hallways, and hides in a closet up ahead. It’s stuffy and it smells like chemicals, and he only leaves the door open a sliver to see outside. It’s a good thing that Reid isn’t that hard to track.

 

The kid whistles to himself as he walks, who even does that?

 

Reid walks past the closet and Flower leaps out, covering Reid’s face with his blocker to cut off his high pitched scream, and drags him into the closet, slamming the door closed after them.

 

To give him credit, Reid fights back - if his theatrical flailing could be called that. Hopefully, the kid never gets into a fight on the ice, it won’t end up well for him. 

 

“It’s me,” Flower hisses into his ear, listening carefully for any movement outside the door.

 

Reid calms down, mouths, “Flower?” against Flower’s palm, which means he’s got his spit on it now. Gross. 

 

“If I let you go, will you be quiet?” Flower asks. Reid audibly swallows, then nods, so Flower lets him go, wiping his hand on his jeans.

 

“What the fuck?” Reid hisses when he turns around. There’s limited light in the closet, mostly coming through the little plastic window on the door, but it’s enough to see the frown on his face. Reid has walked around with a wide-eyed smile since he actually got called up, so the expression is a little jarring.

 

“Sorry about grabbing you like that,” Flower says, and Reid’s frown disappears, “but I need your help with something important.”

 

He pauses meaningfully. Reid’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. His gaze travels downward and he swallows, flushing. 

 

Flower sighs. “Not that,” he says. “What are they teaching prospects these days? I don’t remember being this thirsty at your age.”

 

“Oh thank god,” Reid says, looking relieved, which is frankly a little insulting, “there were these rumors…”

 

“What?” Flower asks, blinking. “Oh, no, only the Sharks do the weird sex initiation thing and they’re big on consent. That’s not what this is about. I need you to…”

  
  


*

 

“Go on,” Flower whispers, “she isn’t looking.”

 

Reid gives him a skeptical look. “I’m not really sure about this,” he whispers back, “she’s really scary.”

 

They both lean around the corner. The very severe Hockey Ops lady is sitting at her desk, frowning at something on her clipboard, making little check marks every few seconds. With each check mark, her frown gets deeper.

 

“If she kills me, I’m pretty sure she can make my body disappear and no one will ever know what happened to me,” Reid says, looking pale. Flower shrugs.

 

“Don’t be a baby,” he whispers, and shoves Reid from behind the corner, smothering down a laugh at his indignant screech.

 

Silence.

 

“Uh,” he can hear the tremor in Reid’s voice, “Hello?”

 

“What do you want?” scary Hockey Ops lady sounds unmoved by Reid’s Bambi eyes. 

 

“I, uh, wanted to ask you about prospects’ accommodations?” Reid stutters, and Flower peeks out from behind the corner, sees her turning around and makes a break for it. He hides behind the desk just in time to keep from being seen when she turns around, squinting at Reid suspiciously.

 

Reid gives her his best winning smile, gesturing frantically at Flower behind his back. She turns back, rummaging through a filing cabinet. 

 

Quickly and gracefully as only a goalie can, Flower sits up, tucks the note in his hand into her clipboard and ducks back down. She turns around. Hands Reid a piece of paper. He stares at her awkwardly.

 

“Uhhh, thank you,” Reid says. Flower tugs on his jeans to signify he needs a distraction. He takes a deep breath and points behind her. “Oh shit, what a huge pigeon!”

 

She turns around, and they make a break for it, out of the office and around the corner where it’s safe. Reid covers his mouth to smother his nervous giggles, and Flower grins at him, satisfied.

 

“What now?” Reid whispers.

 

“We watch!” Flower whispers back, motioning for Reid to join him. They plaster themselves against the wall, Flower on his knees, Reid over him, still quietly giggling from leftover adrenaline, and they look. 

 

The PR lady sits down, opens her clipboard. Squints suspiciously at the note and holds it up to the light. After a moment, her frown melts away, giving way to a small, sweet smile that crinkles in the corners of her eyes. Flower allows himself a quiet fist pump.

 

“Wow,” Reid whispers, and Flower grins.

 

Without looking up from the note, the PR lady says, “I can see you, you know.” She doesn’t sound mad though.

 

Flower lets out a theatrical screech, grabs Reid by the wrist and pulls him away. They run through the hallways, their laughter echoing off the walls. Finally, they stop in a random hall, leaning against the wall to catch their breath.

 

“What did the note say?” Reid asks, watching Flower curiously.

 

“ ‘Thanks for taking care of us! Love, Las Vegas Golden Knights,’” Flower quotes, grinning at Reid’s surprised face. 

 

They head out of the building together. The practice rink is quiet, just a few offices lit up with people hard at work to keep the franchise up and running. 

 

Reid turns to Flower in the parking lot. “Okay, but,” he starts, “why go to all this trouble? Couldn’t you have just told her?”

 

Flower laughs. “What’s the fun in that?” he says. 

 

Reid squints at him for a moment, as if looking for some ulterior motive, then smiles. “Thanks for taking me with you,” he says, “even if it was really scary and kind of weird.”

 

Flower grins and reaches up to ruffle Reid’s hair. “Anytime,” he says, then looks around. “Is your car around here?”

 

“Oh,” Reid says, looking around, as if expecting for another car to materialize magically. “Uh, I carpooled? I guess I’ll just call an uber.”

 

“Nah,” Flower shakes his head, “come to dinner, Vero won’t mind.”

 

Reid lights up like a Christmas tree. “Really?” he asks, kind of breathless, like he hasn’t just spent hours with Flower figuring out the logistics of a really pointless prank.

 

“Yeah,” Flower grins, gesturing him towards his car, “the girls need another human jungle gym now that Sid isn’t around anymore.”

 

“Sid?” Reid starts and his eyes go rounder, “Sidney Crosby???”

 

Flower sighs.

  
  


*

 

2.

 

*

 

One advantage of being in Vegas early and settling in is that Flower is familiar with the practice rink and the employees before most of the other players are. 

 

It also means that Flower is the only one taught to operate the extremely futuristic stereo system connected to the locker room speakers. 

 

“You’ll show everyone how to use them, right?” the maintenance worker asks, while Flower is signing his hat. Flower makes a vaguely affirmative noise and carries on signing.

 

He’ll teach them. Eventually. 

  
  


*

  
  


Flower already has a playlist called Disney Classics. He has two children, of course he does. 

  
  


*

  
  


Honestly, the ‘Blast Disney soundtracks before practice’ prank sort of backfires on Flower.

 

He plans to ease them in with some Phil Collins, because who doesn’t love Phil Collins, right? Flower once read about a guy who punched a DJ in the face for not wanting to play a Phil Collins song and it seemed to him like a totally reasonable reaction. 

 

So the Tarzan soundtrack is first. It seems like good background music for a team just trying to find its feet, and for teammates uncertainly feeling each other out.

 

Flower keeps his head down for the first few chords of Strangers Like Me. The locker room is uncomfortably quiet like no one knows what or who is supposed to say something to break it. 

 

Then, Picks starts tapping along to the beat next to him. From the corner of his eye, he catches Nealer start to stomp along. It’s about the extent of his dance moves so Flower knows it’s working. Shipachyov is smiling too, proving that Disney really is the universal language.

 

Reinhart starts singing along on the second chorus.

 

A few minutes later, Nealer is playing air drums to the track and the boys are singing along as loudly as they can, and everyone is laughing. Bellmare even knows the lyrics in French, which Flower didn’t even realize was a thing.

  
  


*

  
  


Bill and Oscar execute a perfectly in sync duet to A Whole New World in the third week of practice, using gloves as microphones and Picks’ pads as a flying carpet to slide along the benches. 

  
  


*

  
  


Gallant walks in during I’ll Make A Man Out Of You, and McNabb is standing in his stall, fully naked, vigorously lip syncing, while Nealer and Bill do shirtless push ups on the floor at his feet.

 

Everyone freezes for a moment. The coach looks around. Everyone avoids his gaze, except for McNabb’s dick, which is unfortunately perfectly placed at eye-level. 

 

The song reaches its crescendo, repeating ‘Be a man!’ over and over. “Good advice,” Gallant says, laughs, and walks out.

 

He has the analytics department put the song in their next video review.

  
  


*

  
  


Cody Glass walks into the room looking absolutely terrified. Flower doesn’t know what they’re telling these kids about being called up, but it must be something awful as they all come in looking like they’re, pun intended, walking on glass.

 

As if on cue, Picks waltzes in, howling along to the Moana soundtrack. Cody immediately looks more cheerful. It’s really hard to be scared while two hundred pounds of goalie, pads half on, is earnestly singing about wanting to be a perfect daughter.

 

Cody is less happy a few weeks later when during Circle of Life, Haula attempts to hoist him up in the air like Simba.

  
  


*

  
  


There’s a bit of a hiccup in October when Perron breaks down crying during Let It Go. His kids are still in Quebec, as his girlfriend tries to get their visas in order. He misses them.

 

They group hug it out and Flower quietly takes Frozen out of the rotation.

  
  


*

  
  


Reid organizes Disney movie night for the rookies. At Flower’s house. He doesn’t tell Flower he’s doing this, but he clears it with Vero beforehand, and she’s always delighted when she can get one up on her husband. 

 

The girls are also delighted to have a room full of young men to coerce into nail painting and pony riding. 

 

Reid cries all through Bambi. Flower has never been more proud of him. 

 

*

  
  


3.

 

*

 

Shipachyov has got to be one of the weirdest teammates Flower has ever had. He looks like a teenager, even though he’s only a couple of years younger than Flower, and he watches everything in Las Vegas a little like he’s a detached animal documentary show host, confronted with a puzzling new species of stick insects. He understands English, but he won’t speak it to anyone except for a select few people.

 

He’s hard to read, but he clearly despises being called ‘Shippy’, which is why Flower calls him that all the time. 

 

To Shippy’s visible horror, it sticks.

 

He’s all enigmatic smiles and smirks, and despite Flower’s best efforts, he hasn’t been able to get a real smile out of him, and that’s infuriating. 

 

Something must be done.

  
  


*

  
  


Reid stays with Flower and his family whenever he gets called up, which means he’s conveniently located nearby whenever there are shenanigans to assist.

 

“Rookie!” the door of Reid’s bedroom opens with a bang as Flower strides in. “There’s an emergency!”

 

Reid shrieks, drops the magazine he’s holding and sits up straight. “What? What happened? Are the girls okay?”

 

He looks so worried that Flower almost breaks character for a moment. “The girls are fine,” he says, solemnly. “It’s Shippy.”

 

Reid’s eyes go wide. “Vadim?” he whispers. He’s the only one who calls him that. Some sort of bonding they did while they were the only two Knights. Apparently, there were hot tubs involved, Flower isn’t too clear on the details.

 

“Yes,” Flower says, pulling out a chair and straddling it. “It’s serious.”

 

“Serious?” Reid echoes, pale.

 

“He’s unhappy,” Flower confirms, trying to hold onto his frown. It’s not his natural expression so it’s a little hard. “We need to find a way to make him smile.”

 

“Oh,” Reid breathes out a sigh, “you scared me. I thought he was really sick!”

 

“Heartsickness is no joke, Reid Duke,” Flower says, solemnly.

 

“Well, what are we going to do?” Reid asks, fiddling with the hem of his shirt like he does whenever he’s nervous about something. He’s nervous around Shippy a lot, Flower has noticed.

 

“Well, you know him best. What would make him happy?” Flower asks, rolling his eyes when Reid’s face immediately flushes and he gets a faraway look in his eye. Honestly, he really doesn’t remember being this thirsty when he was a kid.

 

“Reid?” he says, impatiently. “Keep your head in the game.”

 

And because Reid grew up in the era of the High School Musical, he immediately snaps to attention. “Yes sir!” he says, then immediately deflates. “I don’t know, though. He doesn’t talk about himself a lot.”

 

Flower makes a thoughtful sound. “Vodka?” he offers.

 

Reid shakes his head. “He doesn’t really drink during the season,” he says, “and he probably gets better quality vodka in Russia anyway.”

 

“True. What about flowers?”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Chocolate?”

 

“He doesn’t really like it, I think.”

 

“More proof that he’s actually a demon,” Flower says. “What about a teddy bear?”

 

“A teddy bear?” Reid says, dubiously. 

 

“Yeah,” Flower says, warming up to the idea. “Who doesn’t like a teddy bear, right? And it’s their national animal and everything. It’s foolproof.”

 

“I guess,” Reid says, still suspicious. “Hey, you aren’t going to put a firecracker in it or something, right?”

 

“Hmm?” Flower looks up from his phone where he’s searching up places to buy plush toys. “Oh, no, firecrackers are only for Nealer, you should know this by now.”

  
  


*

  
  


The teddy bear is pretty nice, Flower has to admit. Its fur is sleek and silky, and it’s just big enough for a nice cuddle. Flower arranges it on Shippy’s bench, fussing with the golden ribbon around the bear’s neck as Picks watches him with amusement.

 

They’re goalies, and usually the first ones in the locker room, but Flower isn’t too worried about Picks selling him out. He’s usually pretty on board with any evil plan, and Flower has blackmail on him anyway.

 

“Do I even want to know what this is about?” Picks asks when Flower settles back into his stall next to him. 

 

“Probably not,” Flower says without missing a beat, “so you won’t have to lie to the feds in case things go sour.”

 

“Is it firecrackers again?” Picks asks and Flower sighs.

 

“Why does everyone think it’s firecrackers?” he says, leaning down for his pads. “Those are for Nealer only.”

 

Picks laughs, but he looks like he doesn’t quite know if Flower is joking or not. Good. Flower likes to keep them on their toes.

 

Shippy comes in about fifteen minutes later. Flower watches from the corner of his eye as he approaches the stall and freezes.

 

“Did someone’s child leave this?” he asks the room at large. 

 

Flower is saved from having to make conversation as Perron, lounging mid-stretch, squints at the bear like he’d just noticed it. “Huh, that’s weird,” he says, “it has your name on it.”

 

And it does, says ‘Vadim Shipachyov’ on a giant tag made from glitter paper in beautiful calligraphy that Flower bribed Vero into doing. 

 

Shippy frowns at the bear for a moment, then makes his way over to poke it in the stomach. It flops over innocently. He picks it up and brings it up to eye level, staring at it like it’ll somehow tell him its secrets. 

 

It’s incredibly adorable. 

 

After about a minute of intense staring, Shippy shrugs, plops the bear into the corner of his stall and sits down next to it to get ready, not fazed at all.

 

Flower hides his frown into his jersey as he sinks into his stretch. The reaction isn’t all he hoped for. There was no smile, for example. Flower can’t just let this stand.

 

It’s time to move onto Plan B.

  
  


*

  
  


Plan B is stealing Shippy’s keys and putting three full boxes of tiny beanie teddy bears into his car.

 

That, at least, gets Flower a smile from Shippy, though it’s brief and he cusses up a storm as he tries to carefully extract the toys out of his car and into a donation bag. Flower hid some in his glove compartment too. And there’s one clipped to the inside of the sun visor. With any luck, Shippy will be getting fuzzy surprises for weeks to come.

  
  


*

  
  


Flower plants a giant bear in Shippy’s preferred plane seat for a roadie. Shippy spends the whole ride blissfully napping on it. Flower takes some pics for Reid. He needs some wholesome material to beat off to. 

  
  


*

  
  


“I forgot something,” Shippy tells the Knights staffer, “you go on ahead.”

 

Flower freezes, halfway down the hallway. Shippy turns around and starts walking back in the direction of the locker room, where Reid is currently planting a teddy bear in his stall on Flower’s instruction.

 

“Buy me some time,” Flower hisses at Picks, and doesn’t wait for an answer before tearing down the hall after his teammate. 

 

The door to the locker room is ajar when he runs up and ducks around the door frame, only to see that he’s arrived too late. Reid is standing, frozen, in front of Shippy’s stall, bear clutched in his hands, and Flower can’t read Shippy’s expression because he’s got his back turned to him.

 

“You got me a bear?” Shippy says, slowly. He doesn’t sound mad, more confused. “You got me...all the bears?”

 

Reid flushes and draws himself up. “Yes, I got you the bears,” he says, the brave little soldier, loyal to the end. 

 

“But why?” Shippy asks, almost plaintive. 

 

“You seemed sad,” Reid says, softly, clutching the bear to his chest. “I wanted to cheer you up.”

 

If Flower tilts his head just so, he can see Shippy’s reflection in one of the mirrors. He looks taken aback, eyes wide and dark.

 

As he watches, Reid takes a deep breath and holds out the bear. “Here,” he says, “this is for you.”

 

It’s a particularly cute one, with soft fur and a train conductor cap. Shippy reaches out to take it, seems to bring it instinctively up to his chest, snuggling it. “Thank you,” he says.

 

And there’s the smile Flower’s been waiting for - full dimpled and sweet. It makes sense that it was Reid that finally coaxed it out of him.

 

Reid seems to be similarly taken by the smile, flushed tomato red, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ of surprise. “Y-you’re welcome,” he stutters out, then takes a deep breath. “Actually, if you ever wanted to, you know, go get dinner or something…”

 

Smooth.

 

Shippy’s expression turns serious. “Reid…” he starts, but Flower is already backing away, out of earshot, because Reid is about to either get what he wants or get rejected, and either way he deserves to have that moment be private.

  
  


*

  
  


4.

 

*

 

“Oh, hey Nealer,” Flower says, casually, “I like your hair today.”

 

Nealer freezes and slowly swings around, wild eyed and terrified. “What did you do?” he asks.

 

Flower allows himself a grin. He’s messed with Nealer so much over the years that he knows exactly how to press his buttons. “Why would you say that?” he says, pulling his jersey over his head. “Your hair looks nice today, I just wanted you to know.”

 

“You hate my hair,” Nealer says, suspiciously.

 

“I don’t hate your hair,” Flower replies, shrugging his jersey over his head. The rest of the room is starting to catch onto the conversation, as individual chats pause and attention turns to them.

 

“You once said that it looks like a birds nest, but if the birds also took a shit in it.”

 

“Did I? I don’t remember that.”

 

“One time you threatened to set it on fire and I couldn’t wash my hair for a week because all my shampoo smelled like gasoline.”

 

“You wouldn’t have washed it anyway,” Flower shrugs. He hadn’t actually put gasoline in Nealer’s shampoo bottle. Nealer just had an overactive imagination.

 

“See! That’s what I’m talking about!” Nealer starts yelling, red-faced. “You hate my hair and you want it gone!”

 

“Sure, Nealer,” Flower says, turning to sit down and put on his pads. “You should really learn how to take a compliment at some point, you know?”

 

There’s a moment of silence, interrupted only by Nealer’s gulping breaths. Reid chooses that moment to burst into the locker room, and upon seeing Nealer, his face turns into the most innocently endearing expression. 

 

“Oh, Nealer!” he says, in a tone of real admiration, “I love your hair today.”

 

Nealer screams.

  
  


*

  
  
  


The rest of the guys catch on pretty quickly. Practice is full of sincere and less sincere compliments about Nealer’s hair, dress sense, and fighting prowess. He reacts to each one with increasingly high pitched noises, and by the end, he looks like a nervous wreck. Flower feels a little bad. But only a little.

 

Nealer is the last one into the locker room, and he comes in an obvious fury, throwing his helmet into the stall and sitting down, head cradled in his hands. He heaves a giant sigh, and then a few seconds later another one because no one responded to the first one. Finally, he looks up and looks around, fixating on Flower.

 

“Flower,” he says in a gravelly voice, like he’s been screaming all day, which he basically has. 

 

“Yeah?” Flower doesn’t look up from unlacing his skates.

 

“The coach stopped me on my way off the ice. He told me he liked my hair, but to leave the helmet on, so I don’t distract my teammates,” Nealer says. 

 

“That’s nice, Nealer,” Flower says, paying studious attention to peeling off his socks. 

 

It’s the last straw.

 

“Don’t you ‘that’s nice, Nealer’, me!” Nealer screams. “What did you do to my hair? And how did you get everyone else in on it? I know you all don’t really want me here, but don’t bully me for it!”

 

The words ring with a disturbing amount of sincerity in the suddenly quiet locker room. Nealer’s hand flies up to cover his mouth, seemingly realizing he’s said too much. And Flower lurches onto his feet.

 

He strides across the room with a purpose, his bare feet making a dull sound on the carpet. He stops in front of Nealer, and cups his cheeks in his hands, looking deeply into his eyes.

 

“Nealer,” Flower tightens his grip because Nealer is struggling to get away, “you are an important and valued member of our team, and we love you very much. Learn how to take a compliment.”

 

Nealer just stares at him blankly, so Flower slaps his cheeks a little to get his attention to the present. “Do you understand?” he asks.

 

Nealer tries to nod, but can’t through the vice-like grip that Flower has on his head. “Yeah,” he says instead, “you love me, I understand.”

 

“Good,” Flower nods in satisfaction and steps back, releasing him, then raises his voice to carry. “This goes for all of you,” he says, “on this team, we appreciate and value each other, is that clear?”

 

They nod. 

 

Flower turns around and strides out. The door shuts behind him with a muted thump.

 

The firecrackers go off, accompanied by Nealer’s furious yelling. Flower allows himself a satisfied grin.

 

*

 

5.

 

*

 

Prospects development camp was so awful that Flower remembers it clearly to this day and it was over a decade ago. Judging by the prospect’s downtrodden expressions, it hasn’t really gotten any easier in the interim.

 

Well, Flower was about to turn those frowns upside down.

 

“Alright, kids!” he announces cheerfully, clapping his hands when that fails to get their attention. “In the historical tradition of the Las Vegas Golden Knights, I’d like to welcome you to your initiation ritual.” 

 

One of the prospects raises his hand.

 

“If you’re going to ask me how it can be historical when the team has only existed for a few months, I’ll make sure you go first.”

 

The prospect slowly lowers his hand. 

 

“Good,” Flower nods, satisfied. They all look suitably terrified, which is excellent. A young hockey player needs to have a certain measure of fear in their life all the times, so their head doesn’t get too big for their helmet. “We can start. Reid?”

 

Reid marches forward with a clipboard, and an expression that’s supposed to be threatening, but is clearly failing since it makes him look like a wet kitten in the middle of bath time. That is, grumpy, adorable, and ultimately non-threatening.

 

Another prospect raises his hand.

 

“If you’re going to ask me why Reid has a clipboard when he’s also still a prospect...” Flower starts, pleasantly. The prospect lowers his hand. “Good. You learn quickly.”

 

Flower waits for a moment, to see if anyone else will protest, but they all seem resigned to their fate, so he turns to Reid.

 

“Who’s first?” he asks.

 

Reid squints at his clipboard. “Nick Suzuki,” he declares after a minute.

 

A hush falls over the locker room as Nick stands up, expression grimly determined. Flower notes how some of the prospects tense up, frowning, possibly ready to step in if Flower has any bad intentions. That’s a good sign.

 

“Alright, kid,” Flower says, opening his arms, “bring it in.”

 

Nick stares at him. “What?” he says.

 

“Give me a hug,” Flower says.

 

“Wait, that’s all?” Nick says as the rest of the prospects start exchanging incredulous glances.

 

“Yep,” Flower says, dropping his arms. They were starting to hurt. “Of course you can opt out. We only do consensual hugging in this locker room, keep that in mind.”

 

“No,” Nick says, starting to smile, “I’d quite like a hug, please.”

 

Flower wordlessly holds out his arms, and Nick steps into them, tucking his face comfortably against Flower’s neck. After a moment, his shoulders start to shake a little. Probably the stress of the last few days catching up to him. Flower just holds him tighter, until the tension in Nick’s shoulders unwinds and he steps back, wiping his eyes quickly.

 

Flower turns to Reid, finds him positively beaming back at him. “Perfect height for tucking under chin,” Flower declares, “rating 13 out of 10.”

 

Reid writes that down, as Flower looks over the prospects. They look considerably more relaxed than they did before.

 

“Cody Glass,” Reid says, and Cody gets up, approaching with a shy smile. Flower holds out his hands and gets an armful of awkward teenager. Cody sniffles a little, and he’s all bony elbows and skinny frame, but he tucks in close, and he, somewhat remarkably, doesn’t smell like sweaty teenage boy.

 

“Very good,” Flower says as Cody steps away, “actually uses deodorant. 13 out of 10.”

 

It goes on like that. Reid calls out names, Flower hugs and rates them all highly. Leschyshyn has a very gentle grip and Hyka whispers, “You’re my favorite,” to Flower in French. By the time they come to the last name, everyone is smiling and joking, and there are hugs being traded among the prospects too.

 

“Nic Hague,” Reid calls, and Flower looks up. And up.

 

“Wow, you’re tall,” Flower says, and Nic laughs.

 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he says, and then they’re hugging and it’s weird because Flower comes up just to his chin and ends up with his face smushed into his chest.

 

“Very big,” he mutters to Reid, still surrounded by Nic’s tall frame, “very comforting. Would recommend.”

 

He finally untangles from Nic’s comfortable embrace and does him the courtesy of not pointing out how red his face had gotten. He has his hands full dealing with Reid’s crush on Shippy without having a star struck prospect of his own. No matter how good he is at hugging.

 

“Alright, kids,” Flower says, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention back. “Get dressed, you’re all invited to my house for pizza.”

 

They all cheer like pre-schoolers, grinning and jostling each other in their hurry to change into more public appropriate clothes, and Flower allows himself the feeling of satisfaction for a job well done. 

 

Hopefully, Vero wouldn’t be too mad at a horde of teenagers descending on their house. The girls will probably be stoked to get thirty new moving jungle gyms to climb all over.

  
  


*

 

+1

 

*

 

Putting his pads on in Pittsburgh’s visitor’s locker room feels strange.

 

It’s so sterile and foreign, and a part of him balks at anything in Pittsburgh not feeling like home. 

 

He’s been weird since he boarded the plane. He knows it, and the guys know too, giving him space, swooping in to run interference whenever anyone that’s not team tries too hard to talk to him. Even now, the locker room is quiet as everyone gets ready, busy with their own thoughts.

Flower looks down at his pads, the small specks of gold on the white where Estelle has spilled glitter all over them. They match his jersey.

 

Sharp Russian breaks through his thoughts, and he looks up, searching the room, hoping-

 

His eyes catch on the ‘87’ jersey and for a moment it’s double vision, all warped in on itself, past and present overlapping. Then Flower blinks and it’s Shippy turning over his skate and swearing softly in Russian. 

 

Flower lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Shippy must sense his gaze because he turns around. Somewhere in the first few months of the season, Flower’s learned to read him well enough to see that he’s worried.

 

“Okay, Flower?” Shippy asks, quietly.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Flower says, tries to muster up a reassuring smile around the queasiness in his stomach. Fails.

 

Gallant comes in, solemn. “Ready, boys?” he asks, then, “let’s give Flower as little work as possible on his homecoming.”

 

“For Flower!” they chorus, the sound of their voices steadying, and Flower ducks his head and schools his expression before lurching to his feet.

 

The hallway he leads them down is familiar. The framed pictures, the dull sound of his skates on the carpet, the distant roar of the Penguins fans, growing louder, all familiar.

 

The sound of the crowd is almost overwhelming above him as he nears the gate, louder than the echo of his teammates’ skates, louder than his heart, beating in his ears. He catches sight of a figure standing by the gate, on the other side of the glass. 

 

Sid stands, dark and unreal in the muted lights of the arena, almost frightening in his stillness. He looks like he’s lurking. Flower thinks about telling him he looks like a creeper, bites his tongue instead, knowing it’ll come out choked.

 

Someone opens the gate for him, and the sound is too much, the announcer’s voice buried under a thousand voices. It feels like the first time, some ten years ago, when he’d stepped on the ice in a different building, and heard the same sound, the pure joy of the crowd.

 

The first cut of his skate into the ice is a little wobbly, but he catches his stride, makes it a few feet before he realizes there’s no one following. He’s skating on the ice alone, in the lights, like a rookie at his debut game. 

 

He glances back to the gate, to his teammates, finds them tapping their sticks on the hallway floor. Both sets of teammates are, he realizes. There’s Geno’s hulking silhouette, and the pearl white flash of Tanger’s smile as he yells, and Phil and Horny, and Muzz, sincere and sharper than a skate blade. 

 

They’re tapping their sticks, adding to the noise of the crowd, as Flower takes his lap, waving to the fans. As he skates to his crease, the sound becomes clearer, becomes words.

 

“Fleuuuurrrryyyy,” the fans scream, without a hint of mocking, echoing off the concrete of the building,  “Fleuuuurrrryyyyyyyy!” and it’s all he can do to smile through his tears, waving at these people who have crucified and martyred him over the years, but have loved him through it all.

 

His crease hasn’t changed. He pats the pipes, feels them steady beneath his palm, familiar. His teammates are all on the ice now, circling his goal, and he catches sight of Nealer coming forward with the puck. His face is grim and determined, and Flower remembers he’s got something to prove too.

 

He gives Nealer a sharp nod and crouches. Smiles.

 

He’s ready.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> \- Endo is apparently Deryk Engelland's nickname? I dunno, but he's [lived in Vegas for a while now](https://www.nhl.com/goldenknights/news/deryk-engelland-plays-to-benefit-las-vegas-firefighters/c-290658022) and is the team's tour guide  
> \- [Here's Eric Haula lifting a child.](https://twitter.com/GoldenKnights/status/895805277005529088) I wrote that line in the fic a few hours before the Knights twitter posted this, which I believe means I'm psychic.  
> \- I don't know if there's enough crossover between RPF fandoms to get the Phil Collins punching joke, but if you do, let me know, I'll give you...idk. A Phil Collins song recommendation?  
> \- alternatively, if you want a Phil Collins song rec you should just ask  
> \- [Vadim's first interview for the VGK](https://twitter.com/GoldenKnights/status/903480523044954116). He looks both like a kid and like a 30-year-old man and it's disconcerting   
> \- [Sportsnet's Cody Glass story](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxXNY1ow_Gc)  
> \- Nic Hague? Very tol. (197 cm / 6'6")  
> \- Shippy kept the 87, which I'm personally delighted by. Alternatively, read my fic [LXXXVII](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11322153) for ideas to creatively deal with this problem.  
> \- The VGK play the Penguins away on February 5th. Prepare tissues.
> 
> On a more personal note, there have been so many great emotional Flower stories posted this summer, about his importance to the Penguins organization, and about the pain of him leaving in the expansion draft. But, I felt like I should write about something different, about what he'll come to mean to the Golden Knights. How wherever he goes, he'll become the heart of that team. So, I wrote this. Thank you for reading and giving this series a chance.


End file.
